


21 Days

by watchoutamore



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchoutamore/pseuds/watchoutamore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>13 housemates, 1 house, 21 days. </p><p>or</p><p>Celebrity Big Brother au ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	21 Days

**Author's Note:**

> ok fuck, im shaking writing this. so this is a cbb au, or if you don't know what cbb is, louis tweets about it all the time. it's a UK TV reality show where celebrities are chosen to live with each other for 3 weeks with no outside news basically (no phone etc)  
> It's a shit show but I love it and yeah I write this ol' thing with it :0  
> I will promise to update every friday!  
> I really hope you guys enjoy! You’ll understand the show more as you read on. I hope it does it justice! 
> 
> I want to thank my beautiful beta, Laura, once again. It wouldn't be up if it wasn't for her encouraging, kind words.  
> she is lpalms15 on ao3 and draculauralou on tumblr 
> 
> Ok, enough ranting, get on with the story!!!

 

Something about living with a bunch of people Harry’s never met before brings him horrid memories about his university years of living in dorms.

 

He wants to come off as likeable but he doesn’t exactly want to be a pushover either and get thrown off the show the first week in; Harry actually wants to do this right. Being stripped away of all outside communication might be a little hard, but he feels like he can go through with it. He agrees to the show anyways.

 

It has nothing to do with the fat paycheck with six digits that he’s going to receive, nor does it have to do with the rumor circulating around that one of his favorite authors might be joining the house. He agreed to this only because after winning the show _Cook Off_ three years in a row, Harry felt like his five seconds of fame were coming to an end. And yeah, his restaurants all over California and London are doing exceptional but he feels as though he’s been forgotten.

 

Harry Styles has been no stranger to the camera lights, having started his cooking career on television and even getting his own segment on TLC when he opened his new restaurant in San Francisco. But all this fell apart when his first big public breakup with a singer in the UK broke his heart, and he visited the liquor store one too many times.

 

Harry swears he didn’t see the paparazzi because he wasn’t looking for them, he never does. He was a 21-year-old famous chef, why would someone want a picture of him exiting a store at wee hours of the night? Apparently, many people were intrigued.

 

The fame went away as fast as it hit him, one day he is reading an article on how admirable his relationship with the 22 year old singer, Heidi Jasper is, and then the next he is skimming through an article titled _Harry Styles burns through Round 3 of Cook Off and burns straight through the heart of his girlfriend Heidi Jasper!_ He cries into his mother’s shoulder that night, crying over how this breakup had made him look like a douche when _she_ was the one who played him and broke it off.

 

Harry actually agrees to Celebrity Big Brother because it’s a way for people to see the _real_ side of him, not the side they read about in trashy tabloids. He wants the world to see that he is actually a really good fucking person and makes a mean curry chicken. He keeps to himself how he’s secretly hoping Zayn Malik; the author of his favorite poetry books will be among the 13 housemates.

 

~

Harry and his mum are riding in the back of the Celebrity Big Brother van, on their way to the set. He is clutching his mum’s pale hand as a makeup artist adds concealer to the light circles under his eyes. He was allowed one person to ride with him; they were going to be the last outsider he would see for the next 21 days. He of course chose his mum, because one, she’d probably hunt him down and kill him for not picking her, and two, Anne was his rock. She knew him so well and knew the lights and cameras and questions would be too much for him so her last encouraging words to him would hopefully hold his head up while in the house.

 

“Hey, bubba?” She ruffles the few strands of hair cascading past his cheeks, as Harry leans into her touch, always loving when people play with his hair.

 

“For the seventeenth time, I’m alright.” Harry replies, without allowing her to ask him _once again_ how he was doing. And Harry is not really lying, he’s okay, he thought he’d be more nervous. Maybe because he hasn’t reached the house yet.

 

Anne shoves at his shoulder, “Woah there, tiger, sorry. If ya wanted a calm, quiet ride ya coulda picked Gem, you know? She would have braided your hair and what not…” Her voice softens, a hint of hurt heard as she trails on.

 

“Shush, Mum. I picked you, didn’t I? I wanted the last words I hear to be yours, you always know what to say,” Harry squeezes her hand, “Besides, Gemma braids terribly.”

 

Anne laughs aloud; Harry always makes her laugh even in the worst of times. “Love, don’t say it like that, sounds like you’re dying. You’re just going away for a mere 3 weeks, yeah? You’ll be all right? You know you can back out whenever you want.” Anne squeezes his hand back and brings her son’s hand up to her mouth, where she kisses each of his knuckles. She can’t help notice how much bigger his hand is compared to hers. It brings her back to a time when Harry’s palms were just about half of hers’ and he needed her to make the simplest decisions. Now, Harry’s here deciding things for himself, being the wonderful man she knew he would become.

 

“I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Harry’s eyes prickle at the corner, tears on the verge of falling down his flushed cheeks. Not the time, so not the right moment, Harry thinks.

 

“I know you are, Mum. Please don’t start, I don’t want to walk on that red carpet with swollen, red eyes.” Anne purses her lips, nodding her head. “But I love you, thanks for riding with me.”

 

Anne smiles at his words, smiling so much her set of dimples show. “I love you more, babe. Are ya ready?” She asks, the car approaching to a stop.

 

Harry surveys his surroundings through the black tinted window, noticing the crowd and the cameras right away. “Nope, but lets get on with it anyway.” He hears his mum sigh heavily.

 

Anne grabs his face in her palms, the wedding ring cold on his face. She reaches over and kisses his forehead, his two eyes, his scar on his temple from a baseball game years ago, and finally his two red cheeks. She is smiling and crying when she lets go, “See you in three weeks, hun. I love you to bits. Try to have fun, but not too much. We’ll be watching!”

 

Harry brings his chest to hers and hugs her tightly, holding in his own tears for the sake of his mum. If he cried, she wouldn’t stop crying until he got out three weeks later. “I love you more, Mum.”

 

Harry is not going to puke, Harry is not going trip, Harry is not going to fall flat on his face. He steps out of the car with his carry on slinked around his shoulder. The flashing lights from the cameras and the questions hit him at once.

 

“Harry how’s Heidi?”

 

“Styles give us a smile!”

 

“Are you excited to show off your cooking skills to the house, H?”

 

He smiles at that comment, because fuck yeah he is. He wants to be liked so much, it’s really pathetic, and he’s lucky he’s got his cooking skills. It’s not that he’s particularly looking for anyone but it would be nice to click with someone and make some new friends. Lord knows he needs better friends.

 

He reaches the end of the red carpet where Emma Willis is talking into the microphone, the crowd clearly enthusiastic of her words from the screaming. He sees Emma turn towards the doors Harry is behind and then the doors are sliding up revealing a nervous smiling Harry Styles.

 

Emma waits until Harry has walked through the sea of people cheering him on to reach over and kiss his two cheeks, similar to how his mom did just a few moments ago. Harry knew Emma back when he was on TLC for his restaurant grand opening. Emma was the host of _From Cook Off to San Fran_ and he and Emma chatted up a lot. Emma Willis had confessed up a huge crush on Harry back then but according to her it was a puppy crush and she got over it. From the way her eyes light up and the blush flows through her cheeks to the visible area of her neck, she might not be totally over it.

 

“Hiya, love!” Harry yells over the crowd’s cheering. Harry walked up to Emma a few seconds ago but the crowd has kept going, clearly taking a liking to him.

 

“Harry, babe, nice to see you again!” Emma turns back to the camera and speaks into her microphone, “Harry Styles, everybody!” The crowd goes wild.

 

If Harry wasn’t sweating before, he sure is now. He sheepishly waves towards the people, blowing some kisses here and there.

 

Once the crowd calms down, Emma turns to him, smirking. “So, H, you’re quite a hit, huh?” The crowd squeals, most some girls, but Harry hears a few whistling from men in the crowd.

 

He grins. “I think it’s the peach pudding that does it for them.” Emma cackles, shaking her shoulders in laughter.

 

Emma grips her microphone tighter, suddenly turning seriously to Harry, “On a serious note, are you ready to enter the house?”

 

Harry swallows back the scream bubbling in his throat. “Sure am! I’m pretty excited actually, I haven’t been able to see the lineup of people because we were told not to,” He looks around at the producers and crew in the back, worried if he was allowed to say that. A woman with a clipboard gives him a thumb up. “But I’m hoping I see a few familiar faces.”

 

Emma presses, “Like who?”

 

“Well, everybody knows my favorite poet, Malik. I have one of his quotes up on a wall at my restaurant. I heard a rumor he was joining, so I’m hopeful!” He shrugs, flashing a toothy smile.

 

“Get in there and find out Styles.” Emma points ahead to the house doors that have opened up for him.

 

Harry waves one last time to the crowd before bowing his head and hands and walking up the red stairs. The red stairs to hell. As soon as the doors slide closed behind him, his heart races and he feels the blood rush to his face. And it’s just like, Harry really wants to be liked, he’s a desperate mess of emotions and that’s the one thing he wants, to not screw this up.

 

“Hellooo?” He calls out once he reaches the bottom of the stairs, hoping he’s not the first housemate to arrive. Harry is automatically aware of the cameras in the corner, turning towards him as he walks into the house. Which, fuck, he totally forgot this whole thing was on TV. It’s a 3 weeklong show, and it might just be the worst 21 days of his life.

 

“Yeah, down here!” Comes an Irish accent from the corner of the stairs. Harry turns the corner and sees a group of people sitting around the couch, some holding champagne glasses and some nibbling at some cheese that is displayed in the middle of the coffee table.

Goat cheese, he can already tell from the strong odor that hits him as he walks closer to the group of people. The group looks up from talking and wave at Harry, all of their expressions unreadable. Harry quickly scans the room and counts seven girls and six boys, including him. Thirteen total. So, he is the last one, thank God. The awkwardness of being the first one would have sent him straight home for sure.

 

A blonde man stands up from the couch to introduce himself first as the group grows quiet, “I’m Niall Horan, mate! Nice to meet you. What’s yours?” His accent is thick and very very Irish.

 

“Nice to meet you as well! I’m Harry Styles from-” Harry is cut off when a man with a brown fringe scoffs and speaks. And the air is rushed out of him because, fuck he’s gorgeous.

 

“ _Cook Off_. Two-time winner. Oh, we know.” His grin lets Harry know he’s only mocking his success, and Harry slightly chuckles so he doesn’t let out a squeal.

 

“Three years in a row actually, did you not watch the last season?” Where the hell is Harry getting this confidence? Wherever it’s from, it’s greatly welcomed because he needs the balls to speak to this gorgeous man sitting on top of the glass coffee table.

 

The man cackles, “My apologies, Mr. Styles, my apologies.” The man leans over the table, a small hand extending outward. “I’m Louis Tomlinson from Manchester United fottie team?”

 

Harry nods while reaching over and clasping the small hand in his. He’d be lying if he didn’t notice how his small hand molded into his perfectly. Harry holds on for a second too long before he blushes and steps back. “Got it, got it, yeah you do look familiar.” He stops himself before he belts out a “ _great legs, mate_ ”. Louis smiles big and wide, showing a couple white canine-like teeth. Harry decides he’d really like to feel them bite his skin.

 

The blonde one – Niall, speaks up again, “Alright, we can just go down the line cus’ we’ve done this a gazillion times, yeah?” There are nods and hums of agreement amongst the group. “Okay, well again I’m Niall, I’m the lead guitarist and singer from XX, the band, the Irish band.” Niall finishes proudly, plopping himself down on the green couch, stealing a cheese from a girl’s hand.

 

The girl Niall stole the cheese from frowns and looks at Harry, “He’s also a fucking fat arse, so watch your food, Harry.” The group laughs, along with Harry. “I’m Rita Ora, singer, performer, yadda yadda.” She waves her hand nonchalantly.

 

Next to Rita is a tall dark haired man whom Harry automatically recognizes. “No fucking way.” He claps his hand over his mouth immediately. Some laugh and chuckle at Harry, and his blush grows three shades darker. “I mean – fuck, shit sorry. I usually don’t swear so much, I just. Yeah, I know who you are Mr. Malik. It’s a real pleasure meeting you.” Harry extends his hand forward for a friendly shake, and Harry tries not to act so giddy when Zayn copies him and shakes his hand.

 

Zayn Malik dips his head bashfully at the compliment, “Ah, no. Thanks a ton, mate. That’s real kind of you. So, I guess I can be skipped.” Zayn smiles, eyes fucking sparkling, and like is he even real? Is Zayn Malik in the flesh, here?

 

Zayn looks over to the man standing next to him. “I’m Liam, dancer and judge on _Dancing With the Stars_.”

 

“Hi, love, I’m Caroline Flack, news anchor, and blogger.”

 

But like how is he supposed to remember all these names? And they’re not even halfway. Harry is really bad with names. This might have not been a good idea.

 

“Hello, nice to meet you Harry. My name is Susan Boyle, I am a professional singer.”

 

Fucking Susan Boyle. Really, but what has Harry signed up for?

 

“Perrie Edwards, singer!”

 

“My name is Jade, I’m an actress.”

 

“Lou Teasdale, makeup and hair artist, the boring bit.” She giggles and sits back down, arms crossed over her chest in a protective manner.

 

“Cara Delevigne, model.”

 

“You may already know me.” Says a deep English accent from the far left. In walks Simon Cowell from what looks like the bathroom, tucking in his white button down shirt. He has a small smile on his face as he approaches Harry. “I’m fond of your work, Harold. I buy your chowder all the time for the Mrs.”

 

Harry feels a rush of warmth over his face once again and doesn't even want to speak up about correcting Simon that it’s _Harry_ not _Harold_. He nods anyway, thanking Simon for his compliment. Harry has never taken to compliments well, so all these at once might make him faint.

 

The bunch goes back to their previous activities before Harry walked in. One of the girls stands from her seat on the fluffy green couch to scoot over until she reaches the edge. “Sit, love. There’s space.” Harry accepts and moves to sit in between Susan fucking Boyle and the pixie haired girl, who he thinks is Lou? Harry is not sure anymore, he already has a headache. Lou – who, yes, that’s definitely her name – begins to ask Harry some questions you would hear at the doctor’s office, all she’s missing is weight and blood type. While Lou is talking up a storm, Harry watches Louis from behind Lou. He is still sitting on the coffee table and has his head arched back in laughter. He’s sitting in the middle of a large group, entrancing a couple people in whatever he is saying.

 

Harry wishes to be more like that, because yeah, he’s charming as fuck and can charm the pants off anyone but he really doesn’t have the confidence to do it enough as he should. He continues to watch Louis talking with the group, the way he interacts and has almost a little of everyone’s attention, and all of Harry’s.

 

Lou nudges his arm, “Ya there, Harry?”

 

“Sorry, sorry. Dozed off for a second, it’s just a lot to take in, yeah?” Harry looks around the living room. There’s about a dozen cameras on just one wall, and those are only counting the ones he can see. “So, how does this Big Brother thing even work?”

 

“You’ve never seen CBB before?” asks Lou, furrowing her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “You’re British and you’ve never seen an episode of Big Brother?” She places a hand over her heart in faux terror.

 

“Well, in my defense I spend a lot of time in the States, that’s where the majority of my restaurants are at. But I’m not flying blind here! I know the concept, just like what do we do now?”

 

Lou laughs, “Nothing really. We wait for “Big Brother” to tell us. And Big Brother is always watching, the cameras are always on and listen to everything. Big Brother will come on the intercom thing and just dictate our day. Comes from the book 1984? He gives us tasks and stuff to keep busy and what not. I’m just gonna have a hard time keeping my hands busy, I’m always on my phone!” Lou drops her head into her open palms, laughing. “Such a loser, aren’t I.”

 

Harry laughs at her dramatic little scene. “Well, hey you’re a hair stylist, yeah?” To which Lou nods eagerly. “You could braid my hair and do with it what you will, I love when people play with my hair.” He can’t help but laugh again as Lou’s eyes widen.

 

“Really? That’s ace, Harry!” She reaches forward and plays experimentally with Harry’s hair for a second. “Gosh, you’ve got great locks. I’ll have fun with you.” She winks playfully and excuses herself to the bathroom.

 

Harry is free to watch Louis without interruption now. He notices the little pinky up while he holds his champagne glass, which Harry doesn’t know if that’s pretend or just habit. Harry might be able to get used to Louis’ loud laughter, and his curse words almost twice every sentence, so Harry might actually enjoy himself. It might not be the worst 21 days of his life after all.


End file.
